Sparkle in the Rain
By Yuffie Valentine

They asked me how I knew
My true love was true.
I, of course, replied
Something here inside
Cannot be denied.
They said someday you'll find
All who love are blind.
When your heart's on fire,
You must realize
Smoke gets in your eyes.

~ ~ ~

When Mistoffelees died, I didn't know what to expect. At this very moment I don't know what to do. The magic that sparkled in his eyes, the same magic that touched the rest of us to the core, has faded into nothingless and left the tribe to mourn in a way they don't know how. How are we supposed to get used to the fact that his sparkling radiance will no longer shine among us? When he died, he left us hopeless, for in doing so he only proved the fact that not even magic lasts forever. That's devestating. And it's left us in shock. If that vibrant smile of his wasn't eternal, then I dread to ask what in this cruel world is.

You know, I had that dream again last night. You were laying there, motionless, and no matter how hard I shook your fragile body, your eyes remained closed and your chest remained still. And despite the blood trickling down your pale face, you were smiling, and it scared me. It made me think you were happy to die; happy to get away from me. I refuse to believe it.

And there was Macavity, making his getaway.

I can't recall a single night when that dream hasn't plagued me since the incident. For the first few months it was a nightmare, and I'd always wake up drenched in a feverish sweat, clawing and gasping desperately for arms which could no longer hold me. After time, although the shock still hasn't worn off, I've grown accustomed to the fact that his bloody face and battered body will visit me in sleep, but it's no longer a nightmare. The haunting scenerio is familiar to me now, and as much as I hate to say this, it's almost comforting to see him night after night, despite his condition. I just wish he would stop smiling like that. I wish he would open his eyes so I could catch a glimpse of that extraordinary shade of blue warmth.

But it's been two years now, and it's so hard to remember what he looked like out of that blood bath. I can vaguely recollect the gentle voice that soothed any ears it fell upon. I can scarcely see the moonlight highlighting his colorful fur when he danced, or the way his parlor stunts and wandless tricks accented the amusement of the kittens' faces. Such young delight... all grown up now... all broken now. I can't see myself smiling before I knew him, and needless to say after I did. Even right now.

I never asked you why you allowed yourself to be tormented and killed for I fear your answer more than I feared your death. You were so strong, but you gave up. You never give up. It was as if you wanted to die; like you had this planned all along. Was life too much for you to handle anymore? I don't believe that. You may have had it harder than most of us, but you were no quitter. When you surrendered, our worlds shattered. Putting all of our trust and faith into you seems like enough pressure to drive the strongest man to defeat, but you were better than that. You always were. So why?... No... Don't answer that, as if you could... I don't want to know. I want to believe there is still good in this world, with or without you.

Two years, and the emptiness still hasn't subsided.

Two years, and I still miss you.

I wish his ghost would plague me or something similarly surreal. It sounds awful, but the need to see him whole again is so overwhelming that I find myself struggling to get out of bed each morning. I've almost driven myself to suicide on countless occassions. So why do I never commit to it? Why can't I go through with it?

Maybe you gave me that strength you were missing.

I damn him for that.

And I love him.

And for that I wish I could cry, because I never have.

* * * * *

So I chaffed them as I gaily laughed
To think they could doubt my love.
Yet today, my love has flown away.
I am without my love.

~ ~ ~

It wasn't even raining when we dug your memorial. It was cloudy, though, and bleak. We were going to bury you, but somehow letting you rot underground in a coffin didn't seem fitting. Preserving you in a glass casket like some princess wouldn't do, either. It would be too painful to look at you, day after day. So we each inscribed something special on this tomb of stone, and then we burned you, and watched you go up in flames. And then we scattered your ashes. Everywhere. And nowhere.

We were as empty as your urn afterward.

That's all we did. The absense of tears did not surprise me somehow. Nobody cried. Every eye was dry for miles around. No one uttered a word. I think some of us dared to breathe, but these selected few felt more suffocated in so many ways.

And then the clouds miraculously cleared. It was as though they gathered for your funeral, dressed in black, and left precisely after. That's what most of us did. The tension in the air was surprisingly thin, but a veil of darkness swept over the land and never ceased to grip us by the backs of our necks and choke us.

Not unfortunately, there was no eulogy. And how could anyone have said anything? There was nothing that needed to be said. And yet everything. You know the hollow sound that cheap porcelain makes when hitting cold cement? It shatters quietly, but the pieces are always big enough to glue back together. A second coat of paint and your creation will look as good as new.

I didn't hear that sound.

* * * * *

Now, laughing friends deride Tears I cannot hide. So I smile and say When a lovely flame dies Smoke gets in your eyes.

~ ~ ~

"Quaxo is sick again."

"Hm?"

"Quaxo... he's ill."

"Oh..."

"And Victoria had another nightmare."

I snap from my trance and turn my head to face Munkustrap. His eyes are weary and downcast, as always, and his presense is as gloomy as ever. He's tired, like me. Like the rest of us. Tired of everything. It almost makes me want to laugh at the irony. I shake my head at this thought and look to the two cats he has his arms around. At the female, at least. It's still hard for me to look straight at Quaxo. He reminds me too much of Mistoffelees. The little feline is often being shunned because of this. Something he has absolutely no control over.

You've left your brother and sister to suffer, Mistoffelees.

Victoria is whimpering. I pull her into my arms, but I don't comfort her as she cries. Quaxo is shivering. I summon enough courage to examine him, and I must admit he looks worse than usual. He's so skinny and weak. Tufts of fur are falling from his matted coat. Like Victoria, his expression is blank and his eyes are empty.

Those same wretched, cursed blue eyes.

It makes me wonder how they've survived this long. The blow hit them harder than the rest of us. They've practically isolated themselves from the tribe. From each other. From themselves. With their parents long gone and their precious brother out of the way, how are they supposed to cope? With the tribe falling to pieces and the adults cowering in pity, how are any of us supposed to go on?

We just do.

I feel Quaxo's rugged breath inching closer to my body. I'm afraid to let him come near. I always am. But I always let him. I put my free arm around his shoulders. The two of them are against me now, sobbing openly. Munkustrap turns his hollow eyes from us and leaves. His job is accomplished now. What more reason has he got to stay?

I listen to young Victoria and younger Quaxo cry.

I damn them for that.

And I love them.

And for that I wish I could cry, because I never have.

* * * * *

It's raining. Your brother and sister are sleeping safe, my love. I believe we shall all finally find a peace of mind now. You've replenished our hope, even if not by much. Over time we will flourish again and the sunlight will grow. In the meantime we're left to the storms and the bitter anxiety of living. But there's hope now, right? It's taken two years to arrive, but it's come. Two years. It's so hard to believe that it could be you sleeping next to me right now. Instead it's Quaxo and Victoria.

They're sleeping safe.

You're not here, but I can feel you close by. There's been so much controversey over me and my psychic abilities. My powers to sense and familiarize over this extension of time have been wavering. I'm so weak without your own unique gift that I can hardly counteract with my twin anymore. We were once puppets to each other. He moved, I moved. He blinked, I blinked. He never smiled, I never smiled. And we'll never cry. We just don't possess that life-saving talent. But the power of love broke that special bond between us. I can't make the connection anymore. I gained you and I lost him. Now I'm left without either of you.

I'm independent.

You have no idea how frightening this is for me.

I'm just not that strong.

The harder the rain pours, the more of you I can taste. Is this where you are now? Is that what you've become? Are you the source of life parading down on us like some jovial circus act? I hardly find this amusing. Despite my losses, I'm still vulnerable to rain. I'm still sensitive to the absense of your warmth pressed against me when we once witnessed these storms together. Your eyes always lit up when it rained, and I never could figure out exactly why. You sparkled in the darkness; in the rain. You pranced and you shimmered like an unfaltering star.

We were all there to watch you, cowering in our shelters, but smiling with excitement at the sight of you dancing under the pale moonlight. Rain cascaded all around you. You showed us there was nothing to fear. By dancing, you showed us that thunder is only a noise and lightning is only light. But rain is something more. It sparkled because you danced. I watch it silently from where I lay.

I'm beginning to understand now that you tried your best to survive; it's just how you are. You want us to do our best and be our best, and maybe we gradually will. Just don't leave us completely. Cheap porcelain can be repaired, remember? Our hearts are riding on it. Stay with us. Stay in the rain. Show us you're there and there's no reason to be scared.

You must be dancing right now.

Tears are like rain, right?

I'll let the clouds cry for me.

The End

(Song: Smoke Gets In Your Eyes)